


lungful of glitter

by wednesday



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: Finn sedates himself after a crate of sex spice contaminates everyone in the hangar. It's not enough to stop the effects - when he can't go looking for anyone physically, the Force helps him do it another way.
Relationships: Finn/Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	lungful of glitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/gifts).



Finn sets up the medstation with shaking hands – there are no med droids on a ship this size, he’s lucky there’s a medbay at all. He takes the hypospray, almost falls on the duraststeel floor when he tries to lay down on the medical bed. The dials blur and smear together into a bright blue glow and he blinks, blinks, blinks the sweat out of his eyes, punches in the anesthetic course. He hears the quiet hiss of the sedatives and – sleeps. 

The unconsciousness only spares him from the effects partially. Somehow he’d expected to knock himself out and then wake up when it’s all over, but the biological effects push even through the sedatives. His sleep is filled with visions of everyone he’s ever seen nude, images of sex that swirl, merge together and mostly don’t make sense in that floaty dream way, but still feel heavy somehow. Finn’s out enough to stop him from looking for anyone, from doing anything stupid. He’s not out of it enough to stop the awareness of what the drug is doing completely. 

The moment those crates burst, he knew it would lead to some kind of trouble, but at the time the spaceport authority closing it down for decontamination seemed like the more immediate threat. Or arresting everyone in sight, because that had looked very much like some type of spice. Finn had to get off planet, so he did that as fast as possible. Now though. Now the medstation is keeping his temperature steady and all he has to do is wait for the rest of the effects to pass. And even unconscious everything feels too hot, sticky, cloying. He just needs to… he needs… 

The dream changes and Finn tries to squeeze his eyes shut against the dizziness. The unspecific flashes of flesh writhing in pleasure fade and when the nothingness around him feels calm enough, Finn opens his eyes. And suddenly this is so much worse. So very much worse. 

The room around him – and it is a real room, or it feels so real and looks exactly like he knows it should – is empty, but at the far end there’s a chair, no, a throne and a slumped over dark shadow occupying it. Finn knows what he’ll find when he walks closer, but he still does, because the thought of a person, someone real he could maybe touch… This is why he’s sedated – to stop this from happening, but apparently if he can’t do it for real, his mind is providing alternatives. Very bad alternatives. 

The figure on the throne moves and oh no, oh no no no, of course it’s Kylo Ren. Finn knew it would be, but he was really hoping it wouldn’t be. It’s his dream, why does his own mind do this to him? 

Ren looks up, at first almost confused, but then his eyes land on Finn and, oh no. His expression changes. First to surprise and then very fast to very intense anger. He stretches his hand out and he can’t reach Finn, they're not so near one another, but there’s a pressure around Finn’s neck anyway. And it tightens. Finn tries to think of something else, to go back to the indistinct pornography that his dream was filled before this. It doesn’t work. The pressure around his throat gets stronger. 

“Traitor,” the Ren on the throne hisses at him. 

It sounds too… Too real, almost but not quite how Finn remembers Kylo Ren sounding. The invisible grip on Finn’s neck, the details of the throne room, the air, it all feels too real, exactly as it should feel in a way even a vivid dream never quite manages to recreate. 

Finn realizes far too late that this might no longer be a dream. Except, no, he fell asleep in his ship. But this is – _no_. Rey told him about something like this, some kind of bond in the Force where she could speak to Ren. But she’d closed that door, and she’s the one with the Force. Finn shouldn’t be Force meeting anyone. Definitely not Ren. 

He tries to remember what Rey told him, but the lack of air is kind of impeding his ability to think, and also he’s pretty sure Rey’s story was more a, well, story and not an instructional manual. 

Still, Finn does his best to, to close a door, to take his mind and his presence or whatever this is elsewhere. 

It doesn’t work. 

He’s still here, in a throne room of supreme leader Ren, being held up by his throat. And then, with the awareness that he’s here by some very unfortunate trick of the Force in combination with shady ship medicine and sex spice, the feeling of want rushes back in. Finn feels the lust overwhelm him almost instantly. 

Ren makes some kind of noise that Finn doesn’t know how to interpret, and the pressure on his neck eases up and then disappears completely. Finn falls down, knees not even making any pretense of being able to hold him up. He gasps, tries to get some air that he’s not even sure he needs in this Force dream or whatever. 

When he’s steady enough, Finn looks up. Ren is staring at him, dark eyes glittering in a way that makes Finn wary. Ren looks him up and down, and Finn is suddenly very aware of his own dick, of how hard he is and how obvious it must be. How much he really wants to do something about it, no, must do something about it. Ren’s eyes feel heavier somehow when Finn presses the heel of his palm against himself, tries to take the edge off and only makes it worse, so much worse. 

And then he’s suddenly aware that he’s not alone here. That he could do something about the ache seeping through his body. 

Finn doesn’t get up, stays on his knees and half-walks, half-crawls closer to Ren. Ren watches him, unreadable expression and hands gripping the handrests of his ugly throne so hard Finn thinks the metal might yield. 

When Finn’s close enough to touch, close enough that he’s kneeling between Ren’s thighs, he remembers that maybe this isn’t something he should do, or want, or think about. But his blood feels sluggish and syrupy, and his mind is both too slow and alight, and he _wants_. 

Finn leans forward, rests his forehead against Ren’s thigh. Once again palms himself through his clothes and groans at how impossibly frustrating it feels. 

Then with shaking hands he reaches for Ren, for his pants and his stupid black clothes that don’t have any obvious opening mechanism. He gets them open anyway, gets Ren’s dick out, half hard already and getting harder under Finn’s touch. Ren doesn’t stop him. 

Finn leans closer, licks it and then gets too impatient and puts his mouth on it. Tries to slide down, take it all and chokes. Tries again and chokes again, and then keeps trying until he’s sucking it with something that’s almost a rhythm. He still can’t get all of it. 

Ren’s breath catches, quiet like he’s trying to stay unaffected and is failing at it. Finn feels the tiny twitches of his hips where he’s trying not to thrust into Finn’s mouth, and he has no idea why Ren’s holding back. Time feels too uneven to Finn. After a while, maybe minutes, maybe less or more, Ren puts a hand on the back of Finn’s head. And the next time Finn slides his lips down, sucks as much of Ren’s dick as he can fit in his mouth, Ren holds him there. The hand on the back of Finn’s head feels like steel, immovable. 

He moans around Ren’s dick, feels the feeling of helplessness spread through his body like an electric charge. 

Ren holds him there for a long moment and then thrusts up, deeper into Finn’s throat, makes him choke. And then he does it again, and again, fucks Finn’s mouth and then does it faster. All Finn can do is make broken, choked-off sounds and lean into it, get used. He moves his knees further apart, presses his own hand against his still clothed dick and just holds it there because anything more would be too much. 

Ren fucks his throat and no longer tries to hide the way his breaths speed up, the way he groans when Finn tries to swallow around him. So Finn does it again and as much as he can and soon Ren’s thrusts get frantic. With a low groan Ren thrusts one last time and stays, keeps Finn there, unable to breathe or move. All Finn can do is take it, feel Ren’s dick pulse in his throat, try to swallow. That’s when even a hand on himself gets too much and he lets go. And then a moment later comes, tries to moan and oh, there’s still a dick in his throat and that makes his orgasm last for some reason, makes it feel like a punch he wants to lean into. 

After a long minute Ren is finally done and lets go, lets Finn pull back. He collapses on the floor at Ren’s feet. Draws shaky breaths and when he can hold himself up again, wipes the spit and come off his face with his own sleeve. 

He looks up at Ren. 

The air around them no longer feels sticky with lust, no longer stings. As the dream vision dissolves around them, Finn knows he should be afraid of the expression on Ren’s face. He should be. He doesn’t know why he really wants to touch it instead. 


End file.
